


the ways of the just

by dreabean



Category: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Broken Promises, Canon Divergent, F/M, Multiple Personalities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 04:45:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4863635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreabean/pseuds/dreabean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I just… I’m not sure how much I want a droid following me around and calling me Master.”</p><p>He laughs and points out, “is ‘meatbag’ any better, really?”</p><p>“It is a little,” she murmurs, looking down at the sandstone. “I’m Master of nothing and no one.”</p><p>(Helena Dorn is two people in one mind and one day, whether the Council likes it or not, she's going to lose the battle for her mind. It's too bad that no one told <i>her</i> that.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	the ways of the just

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Capella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capella/gifts).



> I got a little obsessed with these games. This is all catpella's fault.
> 
> Unbetaed.

**the ways of the just**

 

_And I can't put my trust in the ways of the just_

_For it's justice that’s thrust us into this mess we're in_

_\- Icarus, Enter the Haggis_

 

*

 

"Well..." she says, in tones of failing brightness, "this place is... Horrible." She shades her eyes, staring out over the rolling dunes of sand that make up the sea, heat shimmering the air. Carth has the gall to laugh at her, and she shoots him a narrow eyed glare from under her hand.

 

Ignoring her expression with an ease born of experience, Carth just shakes his head. "Anchorhead didn't give it away? What with the sand, and the oppressive heat?" She rolls her eyes, and he turns his attention to the datapad in his hand. "You were the one who wanted to scout, Helena. Have you changed your mind?"

 

With great dignity, or as much dignity as one could have sinking to their ankles in sand, Helena nods. "Yes, I think we'll be better off. We should grab the others from the Cantina."

 

Sidestepping the guards with little trouble, Helena ducks into the shade from the walls. “You know,” Carth says, falling into step with her, “you should go and get HK from the Hawk.”

 

Helena winces, shielding her eyes to give him a loaded expression. “I know, especially if Mission’s brother is actually captured by the Sand People. I just… I’m not sure how much I want a droid following me around and calling me Master.”

 

He laughs and points out, “is ‘meatbag’ any better, really?”

 

“It is a little,” she murmurs, looking down at the sandstone. “I’m Master of nothing and no one.”

 

That makes Carth smile. “I think you can get away with HK, especially if you don’t treat him like everyone else treats droids. You do fine with T3.”

 

It’s true, too, Carth notes, Helena speaks to T3 and HK like they're human.  As though the dwoo noises were worth the same amount of consideration as Trade. “Alright,” Helena says, interrupting his thoughts. “We’ll stop in at the Cantina and assure our comrades that we’re alive, then you can go back to the Ebon Hawk and get HK. Mind the gizka.”

 

Carth grunts. “You know the merchant right outside the Ebon Hawk sells gizka poison.”

 

With an exaggerated gasp Helena smacks him in the arm with her datapad. “Don’t you dare! They’re cute, and they’re not hurting anything. Do you know what that poison _does_?”

 

Fending her off with one hand, Carth laughs again, heartened to see her smiling. “Alright, alright, I’ll leave them alone. And I’ll go get HK for you.”

 

She smiles at him, too bright in the sunlight. “Thank you Carth. I don’t know what I would do without you.” Before he can respond to that, she steps into the Cantina, leaving him to hurry after her.

 

They slip into the darkened Cantina with all the subtlety of a ronto.  Both Mission and Canderous race over to them with matching intent expressions. Taking one look at the group, the other patrons give them a wide berth.

 

Canderous steps in front of Mission, hiding her completely. "Did you find him? Did you see anything?" Canderous demands, stepping into Helena's space. "Were there tracks? You ought to have taken me with you, boss."

 

Helena laughs in the face of angry Mandalorian, leaning into his space without a care for her own safety. (Honestly, Carth despairs of her.) "Why Canderous, you look positively perturbed," she drawls, an amused lilt coloring her voice. "Let me get out of the door, and I'll tell you everything I saw."

 

Carth shares a look with Mission as Helena falls into step with the mercenary. "It was sand," Carth says, disconsolate. "That's all we saw. Sand."

 

They walk towards a back table, where Bastila sits with Jolee. Canderous is speaking lowly to Helena, quiet enough that even a few feet back, Carth can’t hear him. She’s smiling though, and shaking her head at the mercenary. “We didn’t get much further than the door, Canderous, honest.”

 

“There could have been tracks,” he points out, stubborn. Despite his ire, he still pulls out a chair for her, and waits until she’s seated to claim the spot to her left. “You sure you didn’t see anything?”

 

Helena reaches out and touches his wrist, light as a feather. “Canderous, there were a lot of tracks out there. The hunters aren’t exactly the most subtle of all beings. We’ll go out in a few hours, you, me and HK. That way we’ll find your man, then head to the Sand People territory.”

 

Bastila looks up from her drink. “Are you certain you don’t wish to bring me if you’re going to the there?” she asks. “It would be better to have two Jedi’s than one.”

 

An unreadable expression crosses Helena’s face. "Um," she says, after a telling pause, “It would be easier with two ranged fighters. The Sand People all use melee attacks, and if they’re focused on me, they’re not focused on HK or Canderous.”

 

“You’re not nearly as expendable as you think you are,” Bastila snaps, shoving out of her seat. “Do as you like.”

 

Helena winces. “Oops,” she murmurs.

 

Carth drops a hand on her shoulder before she can stand up. “I’ll take her to the Ebon Hawk with me, I’ll talk to her.” She gives him a beaming smile that makes Canderous shift in his seat, uncomfortable. “I’ll be back with HK.”

 

“We’ll be here,” she says, bright and cheerful.  Her attention is almost immediately stolen by Canderous who kicks her, though not hard. “What, Canderous? I need HK before we can go, patience!”

 

He chuckles, a raspy laugh that sends a hot spike of jealousy deep into Carth’s chest. “I was going to offer you a drink, boss.”

 

Stepping out of hearing range, Carth goes and touches Bastila’s elbow. “Come on, I need to collect HK from the Hawk and I might trip and fall into the merchant who sells gizka poison on the way.”

 

“She would not thank you for that,” Bastila says, still sounding cross. “But I will come with you anyway. Perhaps you can blame it on me, since she blames everything else on me. It would not be a drastic change.”

 

They step out into the heat together, and Carth resigns himself to worrying until she comes back.

It’s not even that he doesn’t trust Canderous or HK. Although he doesn’t trust HK at all, not since the droid admitted to being an assassin model. It's just that Helena spends too much of her time making risky decisions.

 

In the beginning when it was only the two of them, she'd spent half their battles cloaked and alone. That was before Mission and Zalbaar and definitely before Bastila.

 

Somethings never change.

 

*

 

The three of them come back unharmed, with a filthy twi’lek male. Since the beginning, Helena has always started her rounds with Canderous. This time though, she bypasses him entirely.

She speaks to Mission, their conversation short. Then Helena escorts her brother off the Ebon Hawk, with dire warnings. She stops by Juhani and Jolee, then Bastila as is her habit. When she reaches him in the cockpit, Carth is waiting for her. “How’d it go?”

 

She snorts, expression a little dark. “Oh just fine,” she drawls. “Turns out Mission’s brother is a cheating scumbag who abandoned her to fend for herself on Taris.  Canderous’ mandalorian duel never even got to draw pistols. All because I opened my mouth and butted in and now he hates me.  Oh, and the Sand People want me to get moisture vaporizers for them. So, all in a days work, right?”

 

Carth thinks about it for a second before deciding to tackle Canderous. “I’m pretty sure Canderous doesn’t hate you.”

 

Helena’s expression crumples further. “He told me to go away and he didn’t want to talk.”

 

“Alright, what happened?” Carth turns off the security cameras, spinning his chair to face her. “Tell me.”

 

She curls her feet up onto the seat and rests her chin on them. It makes her look like a kid, with her fringe of dark hair hiding her eyes. “We got out in the middle of the Dunes and we were taking shelter by the huge mining operation - it had shade. Jagi and two thugs found us there, and he made some colorful threats. Canderous turned purple, he was so angry, but I just… I asked Jagi a question. And he killed himself.”

 

Carth blinks twice. “He killed himself because you asked him a question?”

 

“I don’t... Remember what I said," she says.  "But Jagi was just so angry about Canderous’ decision to go after the break in the ranks of their final fight. It was the logical move, the right move. It… wasn’t the easy move though, and Canderous has paid enough for it. So I told Jagi that and he agreed that he’d been wrong.  It's just... The only way to regain his honor after accusing Canderous was to… he stabbed himself. I told him war wasn’t made of easy decisions.”

 

Curious, Carth asks, “have you ever been to war?”  He can’t imagine her fighting in a war.

 

“Of course I ha--” she says, a sharp and unknown bite to her voice before she cuts herself off. She looks alarmed, before she swallows. “No,” she answers him after a moment, her face evening out with frightening ease. “I’ve never been to war.”

 

There’s something unnatural in the way she says it. It sounds rehearsed rather than honest, which is frankly terrifying. Her expression has frozen and Carth reaches out to touch the back of her hand. “So,” he prompts, trying to be gentle. “Why do you think Canderous hates you?”

 

The blank expression melts back into something more normal. “He got angry with me,” she murmurs. “Shouted at me, said he didn’t want to talk.”

 

Carth winces. That’s definitely out of the ordinary for the Mandalorian. He snarls and snaps at anyone who looks twice at him, with the massive and glaring exception of Helena. With her, he answers questions without complaint. He even tells his war stories without annoyance even in the face of her boundless enthusiasm. He’d spent an entire galactic week showing her how to use his blaster rifle, when her aim proved abysmal. He’d clearly enjoyed their camaraderie, and even more clearly - so had she.

 

“You want me to talk to him?” he asks, not all that surprised when she shakes her head.

 

“Thanks, Carth, but no. I’ll give him some time and some space. I’ll figure out how to apologize and it’ll be… fine.” The pause tells him she’s not as sure of that as she claims but Carth certainly isn’t going to call her on it.

 

“So,” Carth says again. “Where are you going to find moisture vaporizers?”

 

Helena smiles at the subject change and waves a hand, dismissive. “I’ll bribe or persuade the Czerka requisition officer. No big deal.”

 

Laughing, Carth imagines the look on the officer’s face. “You make solving problems seem easy.”

 

With a slight frown, Helena regards him for a long moment. “It is,” she says. “It’s like… a puzzle, and I like putting everything together. It helps. Mostly the others, but… me, too. There’s so much darkness in this Universe, Carth. I can see it, I can - I can feel it, every day. It presses on me, like the Force wants me to - I don’t know. Understand, maybe. The Dark Side isn’t anger, or hate or suffering. It lives in the worlds, it lives in everyone.”

 

As childlike as she seems, Carth forgets that she’s connected to the Force now. Forgets that she spent half her adult life as a smuggler. After the first few weeks of distrust on both their parts, Helena had wormed her way under his skin and into his life.

 

“The Universe is a better place with you in it, Helena,” he says.

 

That surprises her, she looks taken aback, a light flush on her cheeks. “Carth,” she murmurs.

 

“Just being honest,” he says. “I don’t mean anything by it.”

 

Impulsive, Helena leans in over the console and gives him a hug. “Thank you.”

 

She gets out of the co-pilot seat, and wanders away neatly avoiding T3 as he rolls down the hall. Through security, he can hear her call over to their resident assassin droid. “Hey, HK?” she asks, too loud, from the center room.

 

“I am ready to serve, Master,” the droid says, matching her volume.

 

“If the blue twi’lek, name designation: Griff tries to come in here, you have my express and explicit permission to shoot him in the kneecap.” Carth snorts to himself, not even bothering to stay quiet.

 

“Excited Statement: With pleasure, Master.”

 

Carth tunes out the rest of the ships ambient noise. Then, and after not so gently removing a gizka from his security console, he settles in to watch over the Hawk.

 

Despite it all, things are pretty good.

 

*

 

Helena had meant to speak with Canderous after Tatooine, she really had. After she’d found the star map and set a course to Korriban, she'd had every intention of hunting down Canderous.

 

But now Malak stands in front of her, it’s easy to think of wishes and what ifs. Wishes and what ifs mean she isn’t the reason her best friend lost his family. They mean she didn’t fall so far from grace that an entire galaxy suffered her crash landing.

 

Wishes and what ifs mean she’s still Helena Dorn and not Darth Revan, at all.

 

Carth’s hatred and betrayal press at the edges of her mind, and the only words she can choke out are: “you lie!” even as she can feel the truth in her bones.

 

The story comes out, Malak’s betrayal, Bastila’s con, and the Jedi Council’s lie all twisted together to make up the woman that became Helena Dorn. She’s trembling, and Carth is screaming at her and she can’t hear anything past the thrum of the Force inside her hollowed out chest cavity.

 

When Malak’s lightsaber activates, brightening the area, she automatically responds, but Bastila shoves her out of the way.  “I’ll hold him off,” Bastila says, and in her daze, Helena crashes into Carth.

 

He doesn’t catch her. He doesn’t steady her. He steps out of the way, letting her hit the wall with a clang. “We have to go,” he grunts. “The others are waiting.”

 

She follows behind him, and the pressure of the Force lessens as soon as she hits the deck of the Ebon Hawk. Helena gasps in relief, holding onto the swoop bike for balance. “In here,” Carth barks at her. When she’s too slow to move he strides forward and hooks cruel fingers into her elbow and moves her at a march into the central room.

 

“What happened?” Mission asks anxiously. “Where’s Bastila?”

 

All eyes are on her, and she swallows hard, tasting blood. “Gone,” she says quietly, and despite his anger, she uses Carth’s strength. “She stayed behind to fight Malak, so we could escape.”

 

Mission’s face falls, crumpling. “What…? We’re-- we’re going to get her back right?”

 

Seeing her misery gives Helena the reason to move, stepping forward to hug the girl. “Of course,” she says. “Malak will take her to the star forge, so we have to get to Korriban and find that last star map.”

 

Carth makes a wounded animal noise. “Are you going to tell them or will I have to? Hmm?”

 

Helena tenses and lets Mission go. “What’s going on?” Canderous demands, the first words he’s spoken to her since Tatooine.

 

Helena takes a deep breath, then another for good measure. “I’m Revan,” she whispers, voice barely a sound. When no one responds, she says it again, louder. “I’m Revan.” It hits her then, what it truly means.

 

That she’s the reason Taris got destroyed, leaving Mission homeless. She’s the reason Telos got bombed, that Carth’s wife died and his son joined the Sith. She’s the reason Mandalorians lost the war. So she’s the reason Canderous had been forced to make the hard call. She’s the reason the Republic leaned so hard on Czerka, fostering slavery on Kashyyyk. She’s the reason all the people at the Enclave on Dantooine are dead.

 

“Do you…” Mission asks,  slowly. “Do you remember anything?”

 

“Not really,” Helena answers on autopilot. “Just… flashes, bits of memory. I thought that it was the Force, resonanting where she - where I - walked.”

 

Carth barks an unhappy and mocking laugh. “Oh! And now the lies start.”

 

“That’s not a lie,” she whispers. She doesn’t elaborate, Carth is already lost to her. There is nothing she can say right now that will lessen the betrayal he feels.

 

“We’ll see about that,” Carth snaps. “What does everyone else think?”

 

Helena cringes, because Revan might have been a master at cloaking her feelings but Helena is not. She's just a smuggler from a backwater moon who never learned the art of subterfuge. Juhani tells the story of her time as a slave, that Revan was the Jedi who freed her. How of course it is Revan who set her back on the correct path.

 

Jolee shrugs, tells her “I already knew” like the words don’t drive another dagger into her chest. Zaalbar and Mission decide she’s worth following no matter her name.

 

She turns her eyes towards Canderous. He grunts, and turns his back on her.

 

That’s it - that’s the last straw. Tears bubble up from some unknown well inside her, and she covers her face with one hand. Without waiting for permission, she flings herself down the hall and into the crew quarters.

 

She’s pretty sure no one will come looking for her, but is pleasantly surprised when T3 wheels in, nudging his way under her arm. She lets him, laying on her back and staring blankly at the ceiling, absently stroking her fingers over the flat top of the droid. He wheels closer, bumping into the frame of the bunk, making a happy dwooo sound, and sinking into her touch.

 

“Master?” HK says hesitantly from the doorway.

 

Helena isn’t up for another debate on murder vs self-defence, but she says tiredly, “yes, HK?”

 

“Hesitant Comment: I… remember something. My memory core unlocked, it seems as though you - Revan, that is - are my Master. My original Master, the one who created me. I was commissioned to kill Mandalore but something… went wrong.”

 

Of course. Since becoming a Jedi she has finally begun to realize that coincidence is a fancy word for the Force.  She should have known better than to think she hadn’t touched the lives of every single one of her friends. Or ruined them, in Revan's case. “Of course,” she murmurs. “What else would it be?”

 

The assassin droid moves into the room and stands looming over her. “Statement: Your last order as Revan was to masquerade as a protocol droid, Master.”

 

Helena opens one eye to look up at him. “That does sound like something I would do.”

 

HK is silent for another second and she gets the feeling that he’s analyzing her. “Conciliatory Comment: If I may say so, Master, you are nothing like how I remember you. My memory core is still damaged and my memories are far from complete," he says. "But you as you are now show a regard for human life than I find disturbing. Revan never showed that, not in all our years together.”

 

She's a little surprised that makes her feel better.  She smiles, resuming the gentle petting of T3’s head, and says, “Thank you, HK. That was exactly what I needed to hear.”

 

“Statement: Of course, Master. I am always ready to serve.” There’s so much droll sarcasm in his vocal modulator that she snorts a laugh.

 

She sits up, leaning against the wall, smiling when T3 rumbles out another deeet.  The droid crowds closer to keep getting pet much like the gizka had when they were on the ship. “Never thought I’d be sitting here getting comforted by an assassin droid,” she says.

 

HK startles, taking a step back. “Offended Response: comforting?! I would never. You take that back, meatbag!”

 

That full on makes her laugh, and she shoves at HK’s hip with her foot. “I thought we’d agreed I wasn’t a meatbag, hm?”

 

HK grumbles, his modulator making the sound come out like static. “Statement: You are not a meatbag, Master, as long as you do not act like a meatbag.” His head comes up and he leans in. “Amused Comment: It may please you to know that I adopted the term into my vocabulary because I did not like your apprentice.”

 

She blinks. “My apprentice? Malak?”

 

“Affirmative Answer: Yes. He was so irritating, all the time, Master. You would not let me shoot him but he was always under foot. I called him a meatbag when he would not allow me to do my job. It annoyed him so much, and amused you so much you programmed me to continue the treatment.”

 

Helena snickers, leaning her forehead on her knees. “Malak was the original meatbag? Oh that’s perfect. I love that.”

 

HK pats the top of her head, like she’s a particularly cute animal. “Statement: Of course you do,” he says. “You did before.”

 

The sentiment isn’t exactly comforting, but Helena will take it. “Thank you, HK.”

 

The droid hesitates again before dropping his back onto the top of her head. “Confused Sentiment: This does not come to me naturally, Master. But if I hope to be able to bring destruction to sentients, then you must return to top form. Since the other meatbags who claimed friendship with you did not follow you, I must do so. You are my Master.”

 

She heaves a sigh. “HK, I can’t go back to that.” The warm metal of his hand is heavy on the top of her head and she bows under its pressure. “I remember little of who I was before, but no one is shy about talking about Revan and the things she did. I don’t need - nor do I want - those memories back. I’m just… just Helena Dorn, now. Smuggler, Jedi Consular. The Dark has no draw for me, anymore.”

 

With another static flavored sigh, HK steps away. “Depressed Comment: I am aware, Master. I will hope for another change of heart.”

 

He clumps away, servos whirring in time with her heartbeat. The Force is still an angry empty thing living inside her ribs so Helena slides down to the floor. She sits cross legged, and closes her eyes. Bastila isn’t there to help guide her through meditation but… that's fine.

 

Helena will just have to get used to being alone.

 

*

 

When she opens her eyes again, Jolee is sitting cross legged in front of her. Helena blinks a few times in surprise as Jolee tilts his head up to look at her. “I should have told you, lass,” he murmurs. “But I knew how it would hurt you.”

 

“I’m not that person anymore,” she says. “Did everyone think that as soon as I heard about my past that I would turn back into… that?”

 

“I don’t know what the Council thought,” Jolee snipes. “You’ve shown yourself to be a fine Jedi, lass. You follow the Path, and in all the months I’ve spent here by your side, I’ve never seen you step off of it.”

 

Her mouth twists. “I can't say I haven't felt tempted. Especially now, knowing my - her - legacy. But, I can’t. I will not go back to that.” Helena looks up and locks eyes with him, her usually bright expression flat and dark. “If I do, kill me. Do not hesitate, do not ask. Just end me, and all the destruction I could bring.” There’s a terrible sort of knowledge in her heart, and she shudders. “If I fall for a second time, there are no others who could stop me.”

 

Jolee’s face falls, just a little, just enough for her to see how much her request cuts into him. “I’ll help you,” he promises, and he reaches out to take her hand. “Come out and join us, later. If Onasi says anything, I’ll slap him with my lightsaber.”

 

It makes her smile, though the skin of her face feels tight and foreign. “Thank you, Jolee. I appreciate the offer. It won’t be necessary - I’ll just… avoid him.”

 

He levers himself to his feet, knees cracking with an echo. “Ship’s not that big, Revan.”

 

The name makes her flinch. “It’s big enough for this.”

 

Jolee offers her a hand and pulls her to her feet. “Think about what I said,” he advises. “I’m old and wise, remember?”

 

Helena smiles again. “You’re something, alright,” she agrees as he scoffs.

 

After Jolee leaves, Helena sinks back down to the bed. She's somewhat startled when her lightsaber knocks against the metal frame. When she lights it up, the blue light just seems… wrong. It doesn’t fit her, not anymore. Helena Dorn was blue light and kindness, but Helena-no-Revan is (will be) a mix of both.

 

She can’t fight with herself so torn in two. And while she can’t fix her mind, or her memories, she can fix her Lightsaber. With a plan in place, Helena makes her way through the ship, and almost gives up before she starts:

 

Canderous has resumed his place by the Swoop Bike, arms crossed over his chest, scowling at the wall. The wall directly above the workbench. She glances over imploring at HK, but finds he’s deactivated himself since their conversation. He'll be no help to her now. Finally, lining her spine with durasteel, she steps into the room and walks towards the workbench.

 

She can feel Canderous’ eyes on her, but she ignores him.  She disassembles the lightsaber with quick efficient movements. Helena tugs the blue crystal out and sets it carefully to the side. “What are you doing?” Canderous asks, his voice too low a rumble to be entirely conversational.

 

Helena’s fingers tighten on the casing before she can answer. “Helena Dorn used a blue lightsaber,” she says. “And Darth Revan used a red. Since I am neither and both, my lightsaber no longer fits me.” She slots a new crystal into place before reassembling her mods inside the casing.

 

“What color?” Canderous questions, and she thinks she detects a softening of his tone.

 

Spinning her wrist and stepping away from the workbench, she activates her double bladed lightsaber and shows him. Purple light spills out over them, and she smiles in it’s glow. “Like I said,” she murmurs, just over it’s hum. “Revan used a red crystal, Helena used a blue. The person I am now, the mix of them, should use a color that reflects that.”

 

Canderous meets her eyes, and she lets the lightsaber power down. “It suits you,” he says, gruff and uncomfortable.

 

“Maybe,” she agrees. “I don’t think anything suits me, right now.” She clips the weapon back to her belt, hiding her hands in the sleeves of her robes. “But thank you.” Helena tries to smile, but her face still doesn’t quite feel right.  She ducks around him to head back to the quarters.

 

She doesn’t get far.

 

Canderous hand circles her upper arm, grinding her to a stop. His fingers are tight but not painful so she doesn’t fight him, instead looking up at him from under her lashes. “You have been avoiding me.”

 

That makes her yank at her arm. “Well of course I have been,” she snaps, only managing to wrench her shoulder. “The last time we had a conversation you told me to leave you alone, and that you didn’t wish to speak to me!” She pulls at his grip to no avail, it’s laughably easy for him to hold her still. “Then when I needed your support the most, you turned your back on me. For Edge’s sake, Canderous, let me go!”

 

He lets go of her arm like she’s burned him, and she stumbles back a step. She knows it’s cowardly, but she’s really tempted to activate the Force to lend her some speed, just to get away from this conversation. “Revan, would you wait?” Canderous snaps, and she’d forgotten how well he could read her.

 

“ _Don’t call me that!_ ” she shrieks. She doesn’t know if it’s her volume or the disturbance she’s radiating but both Jolee and Juhani appear in the doorway, and HK reactivates with a rumbled, mechanical growl. Canderous looks shocked, especially when HK swings his blaster rifle up to aim at him.

 

“Lass?” Jolee asks, carefully.

 

“Revan, is everything well?” Juhani asks at the same time and she flinches again.

 

She takes a deep breath but it shudders into her like a sob. “No,” she answers after a lengthy pause that drags too long. “I am not well. And HK, put the rifle down, or at least don’t point it at anyone.” After a second, HK holsters the weapon, but clumps past Canderous to stand at her shoulder.  “I would also appreciate if people wouldn’t… call me Revan.”

 

Juhani’s head tilts slightly to the side. “You did so many people so much good, Revan. Why would you not wish to honor that?”

 

It makes her laugh, just a little. “Because you’re the only person in the universe who remembers the good I did as Revan, Juhani,” she says. “Even I don’t remember the good I did. The only thing I remember, the only thing spoken about, is the destruction.” She shakes her head. “When people call me Revan, they think of Darth Revan. I don’t want that legacy. I don’t want her legacy. I want my own, I want Helena Dorn’s.”

 

There’s another pause, when Juhani inclines her head. “I will call you Helena if you wish it.”

 

“Thank you,” she breathes, and then literally everyone turns to look at Canderous, which makes her wince again.

 

He crosses his arms over his chest and he stares Helena down. “You, _Revan_ , are the single greatest warrior of this age,” he says, his scowl daring any to interrupt. “Any battle we fight will bring me honor.”

 

Jolee touches Juhani’s shoulder lightly, leading her out of the cargo bay. “Thank you, Canderous,” she finally murmurs, watching them go. “I appreciate that.”

 

She goes to walk past him, but he catches her arm again. This time, she just sighs and holds still, letting his fingers encircle her upper arm. “You are missing my point,” he growls. His fingers tighten but they don’t hurt. “I’ll stay by your side through anything,” he promises, to her eternal shock.  “I don’t think I’m ready to give up this life of mine, this life of fighting, not quite yet. We have things we need to do here.”

 

Despite how it pulls her arm across her chest uncomfortably, she still turns to face Canderous. “You have been invaluable to me, you must know that,” she says earnestly. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

 

His lips quirk up in his version of a smile. “Yeah well,” he grunts, “I’m your man until the end, whatever path you take.”

 

Gently, Helena pulls at her arm out of his grasp and this time he lets her go.  HK makes a servos flavored disgusted noise. “Irritated Statement: Master, since you seem to be in no danger, I am going to deactivate until there are more meatbags to shoot.”

 

Smiling she nods, patting his arm as he clumps back to his spot by the workbench. “Thank you HK. I’ll take you out the next time we need to go somewhere.”

 

“Expectant Response: I will be holding you to that Master.” With a whir and a foom noise, he deactivates, a rust colored sentinel.

 

The mood between her and Canderous has broken but she smiles up at him anyway. “These last few weeks have been horrible, I’m sorry I was avoiding you.”

 

“Eh,” he grunted, loosening his stance. “I was letting you.” She smirks, just a little, because no one lets even Helena Dorn do anything. “Do you need me to sort out the Flyboy?”

 

Her smile fades but she shakes her head. “He offered to the same to you, did you know? But no. I will… deal with Carth when the time comes.” She clears her throat, glancing in the direction of the cock pit. “But, just in case, would you go set a course for Korriban for me?”

 

He chuckles. “Sure.”

 

“I know fear is a path to the dark side,” Helena says.  “But I’m choosing to think of this as avoiding conflict.”

 

Canderous touches her arm lightly, the same place he’d gripped her earlier. “You don’t have to explain it to me.”

 

“Thank you,” she adds after half a beat. “You’ll come with me to Korriban, right?”

 

“Are you bringing the Flyboy?” he asks.

 

Helena hesitates before she shakes her head. “No, I don’t think it would be very good for him to see Dustil that way. If I can convince his son to give up the Dark Side, then… well. Then maybe I can repair some of what has happened between us. And if I can’t convince Dustil… then I won’t also be responsible for killing his son in front of him.”  She takes a deep breath. “I’ll bring Juhani. She may be a jedi like me, but also like me, she’s had a taste of the dark and they’ll recognize that.”

 

If Canderous was another man he might have asked her if she was alright, instead he claps her on the shoulder and heads to the cockpit, leaving her alone.

 

Helena takes a deep shuddering breath, Bastila’s absence a hard ache in her throat.

 

It’s time to finish this.

 

*

 

“And your companions?” the Sith asks, already dismissing her - and them.

 

Helena smirks. “They’re my slaves.” When the Sith ambassador raises an eyebrow and turns to stare at her, she gestures expansively. “A Cathar and a washed up Mandalorian warrior, who better?” She takes a step forward into the Sith’s space. “Perhaps you haven’t yet figured out who I am,” she drawls, and in a smooth motion, lifts her hood to uncover her dark hair.

 

The man jerks back two steps, hand falling to his vibroblade. “Revan,” he breathes.

 

She smiles in the face of his terror. “Ah, I see you aren’t as stupid as you look.”

 

“You were dead!” he gasps, pointing.

 

Helena lets her face settle into something mocking. “I got better.” Sinking into one hip and crossing her arms over her chest, she gestures at the door. “Now, are you going to let me into my Academy or not?”

 

The man scrambles out of her way, and she sweeps past. They get through the main foyer of Dreshdae with little opposition, at least until they make it through the Market. There, they find three Sith students, who immediately turn to face Helena with smug and sinister smiles.

 

"Well, well," one of them says, and in the confines of her hood, Helena rolls her eyes. "Another jedi who comes to join the Academy."

 

Helena chuckles, and she feels Canderous tense behind her. "I'm no Jedi," she says. It's more or less the truth, but three students just laugh.

 

"I don't think you realize who we are," the ringleader drawls. "You see, we are Sith. Literally, your lives depend on our whim."

 

By the Force, Helena hopes that she wasn't this dramatic when she was a Sith Lord. "You could try and kill me," she says pleasantly. "You'd fail, but you could try."

 

The ringleaders two henchmen make unflattering faces and go for their vibroblades, but the woman laughs. "Ah," she says, "we found a joker. Perhaps our new friend here can amuse us for her life. Well then, go on. Amuse us."

 

She's hardly about to stoop to their level, so she prepares a Push to get them out of her way. She's on a time table, and has no patience for smug students who don't know any better.

 

It's not a Push at all.

 

The ringleader suddenly grabs her throat, choking wildly as Helena lifts her hand. Feet kicking, face turning red, the ringleader sobs out placation and Helena lets her drop into a heap on the floor. Horror is clawing at her throat, the Force a wild thing in her chest as she smiles in the depths of her hood. "Amused yet?" She lilts, folding her hands placidly in front of her.

 

"Who are you?" The woman chokes out, rubbing her throat.

 

"Very bored," Helena answers and slips her hands into her sleeves to hide their shaking. The students scramble out of her way and she sweeps away, down towards the Cantina. Once they arrive, she finds a deserted corner and sinks down into a chair, shaking hard.

 

Juhani kneels at her feet, taking both her hands. "Center yourself, Helena."

 

"I didn't know you could do that," Canderous grunts as she slowly gets herself under control.

 

Helena looks up at him, her eyes a very dark blue in the darkness of her robes. "It... It was Revan's specialty," she says with horror tinging her voice. "I just... remembered it. It didn't even take effort."

 

Juhani rubs her thumbs briskly into the joints of Helena's hands, calming their shaking. "It is this place," she says very quietly. "The Dark is strong here, and many of your memories are tied to the Dark. It is very likely that you will remember more."

 

She breathes out another shaky breath. “Oh,” she says softly. “This was a terrible idea.” She finally drags her eyes from where Juhani’s hands are on hers to look up at meet Canderous’ gaze.  He’s looking down at her with an unreadable expression on his face and Helena’s heart seizes in her chest. It’s been a good long while since she hasn’t been able to tell what he’s thinking.

 

After several long seconds of time, Canderous nudges Juhani out of the way to crouch down in front of Helena. “What do you want us to do?” he asks her seriously. “I’ll follow your lead.”

 

She takes some strength from his solid presence and says, slow and thoughtful, “I don’t want to play Darth Revan,” though she tries to keep the whine from her tone, “but I think that’s the plan.”

 

“What about Malak?” Juhani asks.

 

“Malak already knows I’m alive. Even if this Academy tips him off, he’s halfway to wherever the Starforge is. He won’t come rescue them.” Taking another breath to center herself, Helena lets her face harden into an expression she only can vaguely remember making in a mirror. If they need her to be Darth Revan, then she’ll be Darth Revan. “I will raze this place to the ground,” she growls, and lets Helena Dorn sink further away from her.

 

Because, if she’s honest, Helena Dorn was only a pipe dream anyway.

 

She stands, adjusting her hood. “Let’s go,” she says. “It’s time to find Dustil, and the Star Map. I don’t want to spend any more time here than I have to.” With Juhani and Canderous falling into step behind her, she moves briskly through the hall only to come up short when several people block her path.

 

Three more students stood before her, vibroblades already out. Helena is utterly sick of this place. “Just,” she said with only a hint of anger, “get out of my way.”

 

When they rush to attack she widens her stance throws out Wave of Force that knocks their attackers off their feet. Canderous gets one of them point blank with his blaster, while Juhani draws her own blade. The death of their comrade doesn’t stop them, they continue to advance.  

 

Her lightsaber responds to her touch, and she can tell the red crystal startles her companions - especially Canderous who had last seen her putting a purple one in. It stops the students in their tracks and Helena allows herself one bitter smile. “Do the students of the Academy make it a point to attack travelers completely out of turn?” she asks, mildly.

 

She spins her double bladed lightsaber and lets the Force bubble out of her in a massive wave. The students still standing scream and shriek, writhing in place as the Force slams into them. For a second, Helena’s surprised. There’s so much she’s forgotten, but this is easy - the Force flows out of her in a way that it never has before. She remembers the maneuver though, Force Crush was another one of Malak’s favorites.

 

Letting go of the Power, Helena folds her hands back into her sleeves and watches the students crumple to the ground without her power to hold them up.

 

She’s not shaking anymore.

 

Taking a few dainty steps forward, Revan bends down and plucks a badge off one of the student’s robes. “This looks very important,” she says to him as he gasps on the floor. “Shame you’ve gone and lost it.”

 

Once they turn away from the students, two struggling to their feet, one dead on the floor, Canderous falls into step beside her. “What’s the badge?”

 

She shrugs one shoulder. “No idea. But it has the Sith Academy logo on it. It might be important.”

 

By virtue of wandering, they find the doors out towards the Academy, sending them back into the wasteland that is Korriban. Not far from Dreshdae is another large building with the Sith emblem plastered on it. “Subtle they are not,” Juhani murmurs at her side.

 

Revan shoots her a smile but Juhani looks concerned instead of amused.

 

There’s another Sith, this one in officer’s clothing, guarding the door. “State your business,” he demands. There are several others outside the doors, and Revan gives them a curious glance. “Are you prospective students?” the guard asks when she doesn’t immediately respond to him.

 

From the depths of her concern, Revan manages a dry smile. “Not as such,” she answers. “I am here to speak to your Master.”

 

The guard laughs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah? And who are you? No one gets in to see Master Uthar without a student badge.”

 

Revan tilts her head to the side. She remembers Master Uthar, though at the time he’d been barely an apprentice to the last headmaster of this Academy. Jorak Uln, his name was, an insidious cruel man who enjoyed torturing his students. “Uthar is the new Master? Well now, that changes things.” She pushes her hood off to her shoulders. “He’ll want to see me, and you, you don’t want to stand in my way.”

 

“Revan,” the guard breathes immediately. “We heard you were dead.”

 

“The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.” She fixes him with a mild glare. “Are you going to let me in or do I have to get creative?”

 

It’s probably uncharitable to be amused when the guard scrambles to unlock the Academy door, but she is, all the same. She sweeps by him with nary a word of thanks, assuming that Juhani and Canderous are behind her.

 

They barely make it up the slope to the main room when a tall humanoid man appears in front of them. “Revan!” he breathes, and she raises an eyebrow at him. “You do not recognize me?”

She smiles, and gathering from the man’s entourage, it isn’t a kind expression. “Am I supposed to?” she drawls.

 

“I am Master Uthar,” he says, somewhat belatedly. “We met long ago.”

 

Now that he says it, she can see the boy he was in what he’s become. “Jorak finally passed on, then?” she asks, because if she ever knew, she certainly doesn’t remember now.

 

“He left the Academy to me,” Uthar agrees. “Come, let us discuss business in comfort, rather than in the doorway.” He leads them to a bedroom, ostensibly his, and gestures for her to take a seat.  Without prompting, Canderous and Juhani stand just behind her, Juhani on her left and Canderous on her right, flanking her. “It has been many years since you were last seen, Revan. Malak claimed that you died at the hands of the Jedi.”

 

Arching one eyebrow at him, Revan smiles again. “Malak claimed, did he?” she drawls. “How strange. I so clearly remember his ship firing on mine.” Uthar pauses for a second and Revan folds her hands in her lap. It’s more out of habit now, the shaking has long since ceased. “Let me be frank, Uthar. I have little patience for backhanded conversation. I am here to find a new Apprentice as my last turned out so very disappointing.”

 

Uthar blinks. “Malak seems very successful,” he disagrees with a hint of censure in his voice.

 

Canderous tenses against her back but Revan merely laughs. It’s not a kind laugh, hard edged and familiar. “Malak is a fool,” she says, low and dark. “He attempted to oust me, and failed. You think he claims the title of Dark Lord when I still live? I made him what he is and I will unmake him as just as easily.”

 

Uthar clears his throat. “So you have come to replace him.”

 

“So I have come to replace him,” she repeats, evenly. “Malak is a failed experiment, and I do not make the same mistakes twice.” She leans in, very slightly, pulling the Force around her. “This is a formality, Uthar. I will have an apprentice whether or not you agree with me.”

 

He leans back at the press of her will, and she lets her smile take on a quality that gives her too many teeth. When they were young and before the Dark had taken her mind and his face, Malak had called it her firaxa smile. “I am conducting the newest padawan trials this week,” he says. “You may have your pick of anyone accepted into the facility.”

 

Revan chuckles. “Of course I will, Uthar.”

 

Uthar has a padawan show her to a room of her own, and as soon as she can sense that they’re alone, Helena lets the Dark power bleed away. She drops her head into her arms, taking several deep breaths. “You are holding up admirably,” Juhani says diplomatically.

“I remember him,” Helena says, muffled. “I remember coming here to complete my studies, one of my teachers… Traya, she brought me here. I brought Malak against her wishes. This was my room then, too.” Something hits the top of her head, surprisingly gentle. Helena looks up to see Canderous’ hand holding a datapad. “What is this?”

 

He shrugs. “I don’t know. It was on the floor behind the couch he’d sat you on.” She takes it immediately, cracking the encryption on it in seconds. “This is… this is about Dustil,” she murmurs. “Oh, Canderous,” she breathes. “You’re amazing, this is perfect. Thank you.”

 

There’s a strange look on his face but he nods once sharply. “Sure,” he grunts. “Glad to help.”

 

Helena takes a few more minutes to breathe, recentering herself and steeling herself against what she must do next. “We should find Onasi’s child,” Juhani says quietly.

 

“Yes. Let’s go.”

 

*

 

They find Dustil Onasi relatively easily, considering he’s right down the hall from them. She doesn’t approach him, instead waiting for Uthar to call a gathering in the central meeting area. Uthar finds her immediately, sweeping forward until he stands beside her.

 

There are many Sith apprentices, and several padawans as well as the hopefuls he’d mentioned to her earlier. “My students,” he says grandly, his voice echoing. “Allow me to introduce our guest.” He makes another grandly expansive gesture in her direction.

 

Schooling her expression into something impassive with a hint of the Darkness under her hood, Helena waits until everyone has turned to face them before lifting it away from her hair. There are a series of gasps and a few whispers as her face is revealed. “She is here to choose a new Apprentice,” Uthar says with little warning. “Do not disappoint me.”

 

He breaks away into a spiel about bringing him honor and prestige, but Helena tunes him out.  She lets her gaze sweep over the crowd. Many of the students refuse to meet her gaze which doesn’t give her much hope for Uthar’s training. Dustil is staring at her though, and he looks so much like Carth that it momentarily startles her.

 

Once the students have left to do their Master’s bidding, only then does Helena move towards Dustil. The boy hasn’t moved from his place against the wall, and he follows her movements with his eyes. “You’re very free with your gaze, boy,” she drawls.

 

He blushes, dropping his eyes to the floor. “I recognize you,” he says, and there’s a thread of anger and hatred in his voice. “You bombed my home. You’re the reason my mother is dead.”

 

Helena Dorn surges against the wall in her mind but Revan suppresses her ruthlessly.

 

“You’re right,” Revan says. “I am the reason Telos was bombed. And if you hated me as much as you want me to think you do, you’d not be here within the Sith Academy.” She pulls the datapad that Canderous had stolen out of a pocket. “This is yours,” she says quietly. “Once you have read it, find me in the dormitory.”

 

She does another few circuits of the room, spends far too long staring down the female student she’d Choked upon their arrival to the planet. It’s brutally clear that many of the so called students here are unsuitable for the Dark Side. They’re nervous, jumpy, too willing to bow and scrape to the Masters.

 

Revan had never gone in on cruelty for cruelty's sake. She’d only ever done what was necessary, not what was easy. Like she’d told Jagi so many months ago on Tatooine, war means making the hard choices. She taps the end of her lightsaber against her leg, a habit she picked up from Helena. “These people have no idea,” she murmured to herself.

 

Canderous nudges her shoulder with the palm of his hand. “Haalur, cyar’ika,” he murmurs, and she takes a breath, feeling her ribs expand against his hand.

 

Juhani steps in close, bending her head as though in deference, and using their height difference to murmur in her ear. “I suggest we go back to our space in the dormitory. It is unwise to linger in such a common space.”

 

Revan nods, and heads back the way they’d come. The dorm is mostly empty but for yet another skittish Sith apprentice who gives her a wide berth. Their room doesn’t have a door, and Revan really doesn’t trust the compound not to be listening in on their conversation. Her memories are slow to return but this place, this place she remembers.

 

Motioning Juhani and Canderous silent, she drops a hand on the computer console at the mouth of the room and pulls the Force around it as though it was a droid. The console sparks twice and then goes dark. On Revan’s signal, Juhani stands at the frame of the room and throws up a large statis field that covers the entrance. “That should block us from prying ears,” she says quietly.

 

Sitting down, Revan drains away, and without her spine, Helena is boneless and empty. She sinks down onto the bed feeling miserable, surprised when Canderous sits beside her.  Helena leans into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. “How much do you remember?” Juhani asks, from her place by the door.

 

Her smile is bland and her face feels like plasteel. “Everything,” she whispers. It’s more or less true - some details are hazy but for the most part, Helena is more Revan than she ever was before. There’s a whole host of knowledge and powers inside her head, pressing on the edges of her memories. In all her years, as Revan or as Helena, she’s never been afraid of the Force before.

Now, she has no idea what will happen when she uses it for more than the most universal of actions.

 

“What do you need us to do?” Canderous asks, his voice a rumble right by her ear. She has a few answers to that and none of them fit for their current situation. She shrugs the shoulder not pressed up against Canderous’ side, and slumps further into him.

 

In only a moment, she’ll have to pull Revan back out of the dark of her mind, but for now, she can be Helena.

 

*

 

She tears the Academy to pieces.

 

Though Revan would never go so far as to care about the Sith trainees, she systematically sends each of them away, by persuasion or by trickery. Some she simply lays out facts for, others she convinces them out of their artefacts. Instead, under the cover of stealth and twilight, Revan carefully collects each of the Sith weaponry in each of the tombs. It’s been many years since she could use any of it, but she knows that no others should have them either.

 

She follows Uthar and his twi’lek apprentice into the final Tomb, and she kills all three of them. The obnoxious blonde Sith who had stopped her at the gate, Uthar, and the apprentice. All of them, gone. And with them, their legacy.

 

Without Canderous at Juhani at her shoulders, she feels vulnerable, but Revan still walks up to the Academy alone. Another hopeful, another fool, stops her by the caves. “I saw you go into that temple, Revan! Where is Master Uthar?!”

 

Revan shrugs one shoulder. “Still in there, I suppose,” she drawls. “I was invited to watch.”

 

The hopeful raises a blaster, leveling it at her face. “I don’t believe you.”

 

At this range, Revan is in very real danger of being grievously injured. She tenses, fingers twitching for her lightsaber. “Boy,” she warns, a hint of the Force behind her, “be careful what you do.”

 

There’s a blaster shot and Revan jerks backwards uselessly to avoid it. The boy falls, his weapon dropping to the dust. Startled, Revan whirls to find the attacker, expecting Canderous.

 

She finds Dustil instead.

 

“You know what I don’t understand?” he asks, conversationally as he comes level with her. “Why Darth Revan would give me a datapad that would convince me not to become a Sith.”

 

She relaxes. “You have perfect timing,” she compliments. “And if you want an answer to your question, I suggest not speaking of it here.”

 

After a pause, Dustil nods once. “Come with me.” He ducks into the cave, and with only the slightest bit of hesitation, Revan-no-Helena follows.

 

Dustil leads her through the cave system with the ease of someone who has done it a hundred times before. Despite hearing about how the shyracks have taken over the cave, she comes across none but corpses. After a few twists and turns, he leads her to a small enclosed area, stepping neatly around the mines she can see at the mouth of the cave. “The runaways were here,” he supplies quietly. “Once I left the Academy, I came here and helped them escape. No one will find us here, and no one will listen in.”

 

“I didn’t come here for an apprentice,” she says slowly, turning to face Dustil. “I have had my fill of those. I came here for you. Your father is my pilot, Dustil Onasi.”

 

There’s a very long pause as Dustil stares at her. “My father,” he says, “is your pilot. Is that a joke?”

 

“No,” she says frankly. “I am Helena Dorn, and yes, I am also Revan. But I have forsaken the Dark Side.” She takes a deep breath. “You father asked me to come here, to find you. He’s spent the last few years since Malak bombed Telos thinking you had died with your mother.” When Dustil opens his mouth to speak she holds up a hand. “I am aware that does not absolve him of his neglect. Know this, though: your father, upon the minute he was told you lived, demanded I plot a course here to find you and rescue you.”

 

He snorts, embittered and angry. “Yeah? And where is my father now?”

 

Helena smiles a little, rubbing the back of her head. “I may have ordered him to stay on the ship. This place brings up many memories, and I did not…” She sighs. “I am two people, Dustil Onasi. And he can only stomach one of them. I ordered him to stay with the Ebon Hawk, and promised to bring you to him. Will you come with me?”

 

Dustil gazes at her, for several heartbeats. “I’ll come with you,” he eventually agrees. “I can’t promise you anything, but I’ll come with you.”

 

She nods once, and presses her comm link. “Canderous, do you read?” she asks.

 

“Revan!” he exclaims in her ear, sounding almost breathless. “Orders?”

 

“Clean house, Canderous. I have Dustil, and Uthar is dead. I’ll meet you inside.” She disengages before he can reply and she turns to the boy. “You’re Force Sensitive,” she comments and he nods. “Alright. We’ll deal with that when the time comes. Until then, I’ll be your de facto Master.”

 

His eyes go very wide and he nods. “Of course!”

 

Helena hides her wince in her hood, tugging it back up to cover her eyes. “Come on, Dustil. Canderous and Juhani will have taken care of the rest of the guards. We’ll meet them at the door.”

 

They don’t actually make it further than the back door before Canderous greets them, a streak of blood over his nose. “Revan!” he cheers when he sees her, and without regard for Dustil who stands beside her, he strides up to her and pushes her hood back to see her face.

 

His fingers are warm on her skin, and he tilts her face up, as though checking for wounds. _“Cyar’ika_ , you’re well?”

 

“Enough to fight,” she answers with a smile.

 

 _“Ibic ner dala’ika_ ,” he murmurs, and lets her go. “The Cathar and I took care of the others here. Onasi is waiting at the ship. Are you ready?”

 

She nods once, and ushers Dustil along ahead of her. Juhani is waiting at the front door of the Sith Academy, several bodies lining the area. The Cathar gives a last experimental swing of her lightsaber, before she turns to Helena with a smile. “You seem much improved,” Juhani greets her.

 

“I am,” Helena agrees. “Thank you for your help, before.”

 

It is easier now, the Force isn’t beating her ribs and smothering her heart. She can be both, Helena and Revan, and it doesn’t hurt - not any longer.  Though she will never be able to reconcile the things she had done as the Dark Lord of the Sith, she doesn’t need to suffer for Revan’s actions.

 

The thoughts carry her back to the Ebon Hawk, where the Force has attuned itself to her and her companions. The encroaching Darkness fades the closer she gets to her Home. Stepping into the Cargo Bay of the Hawk settles her, and she lets Revan go again.

 

Helena looks over the swoop bike and HK’s chassis with a fond smile. “Welcome home,” she says to Dustil. She leads him to the cockpit, where Carth’s back is to her.  “Carth?” she asks, carefully. They still haven’t spoken since Bastila left them.

 

“You know,” he says harshly. “I know why you told me to stay on the ship but to not even try?”

 

Giving Dustil a pointed look, Helena steps out of his way. “Dad?” he asks.

 

Carth whirls, stumbling out of his chair. Giving them both their space, Helena slips back into the hall, checking on Jolee and Juhani before heading into the cargo hold and Canderous.

 

The Mandalorian stands in his customary position, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes on the doorway as she walks through. She gives him a smile before heading to the workbench, unwrapping and tugging off her robes. Her old set, the Quel-Droma robes that she replaced with the Dark Sith robes for Korriban, were sitting where she left them.

 

With quick, efficient movements, Helena disassembles the Dark Sith robes, pulling out the mods she’d added to help protect her. She’s halfway between replacing those same mods into her normal robes when she feels Canderous step up behind her. “ _Cyar’ika?_ ” he murmurs, his warm hands on both her bared shoulders.

 

“You keep calling me that,” she says softly. “Why?”

 

“It’s what you are,” he answers. “I told you, I’m your man.”

 

“Is that so?” She turns to face him, finding him far closer than she’d suspected.

 

Canderous nods, fingers flexing on her shoulders. “You understand my ways, the ways of the Mando’a. I would not be here otherwise, so I am here for you.”

 

Helena looks up into his face, seeing that the streak of blood she’d noted on Korriban was actually a scrape of his own. She reaches up, pressing her fingertips to his cheek. Home on the Ebon Hawk, she doesn’t fear the Force, and the Force Heal she sends his way does exactly as it’s supposed to.

 

The scrape heals up, leaving nothing behind and he cracks a crooked grin. “It would have healed on it’s own,” he points out.

 

She smiles back at him. “I take care of what’s mine.”

 

*

 

It takes almost a full galatic day for Carth to go to Helena. He finds her in the crew quarters, sitting cross-legged on Bastila’s empty bed, eyes closed in meditation. He hesitates at the doorway, before taking a step backwards. “You’re not disturbing me,” Helena says gently, and opens her eyes, focusing on him.

 

He swallows hard, looking down at the floor. “Thank you,” he forces out of a dry throat. “Things aren’t quite right with Dustil, yet… but they will be. And he says you offered to be his Master, to teach him of the Force.”

 

Helena nods, somber and blank faced. “No doubt the Masters of Dantooine will disagree with that decision. A boy who has already pledged himself to the Dark once being taught by Darth Revan? They will not stand for it, I run too much of a risk to be a Master. But I will teach him until the Council reconvenes on Coruscant.”

Carth nods, stepping further into the room. “Look, I… I’m sorry, about what I said. After we escaped the Leviathan. I didn’t…”

 

Helena gives him a very wan smile. “Please don’t tell me you didn’t mean it. I know you did.” He struggles for his words for a second and she looks down, away from him. “I know I am a monster, Carth. But at least I am monster who strives to change. I owe the world so many apologies I cannot feasibly count them all.”

 

“You don’t owe me anything. You brought Dustil back to me.” He steps even further  into the room and kneels in front of her. “I’m the one who should be sorry. You’re no more like Revan than I am.”

 

She takes a deep breath and wraps her arms around his neck in a hug. “Thank you,” she murmurs. “I’ve missed you.”

 

Two tears shine on her cheeks  when she pulls away and he touches two fingers to them gently. “I missed you too.”

 

They both glance over at Bastila’s abandoned pillow. “I’ll get her back, you know,” she promises quietly. “I’ll bring her home.”

 

Carth nods. “I know you will.” The smile that breaks over her face when he says it makes his heart ease in his chest. It’s not perfect, it’s not what they were but they will be.

 

The star forge looms on their horizon, but Carth’s fears have been eased.

 

They’ll make it through.

 

*

 

 *** Many Years Later ***    

 

Canderous drags her close to him, holding her tightly. “No,” he growls stubbornly. In the circle of his arms, he can feel her ribs expand with a breath, but he squeezes. “ _No!_ ” he insists.

 

“ _Ner’verd,_ ” she murmurs, leaning her temple against his. “This is something I must do.”

 

He is not letting her leave this station without him. “I don’t know what you think, Revan, but I am not staying behind.”

 

Helena laughs lightly, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and another to his forehead above his eye. “Canderous, you have a different path.” A protest is on the tip of his tongue but she kisses it away. “You do, Canderous. You’ve told me so many times that you wish to take back the Mandalorian Order. Make Clan Ordo great again.” She kisses him again, halting any further protests. “And I must go to the Outer Rim.”

 

“That will kill you,” he growls before she can stop him.

 

Helena laughs but it sounds like a sob. “I know. It’s a possibility. But you don’t have to follow me down, Canderous. You can take back Clan Ordo. And I… I’ve been living on borrowed time, for good long while.” She presses her face into his shoulder, just breathing him in.

 

“You are mine, _cyar’ika,_ ” he says.

 

She smiles against his collarbone. “I know I am.” She takes a shuddering breath. “That’s why I hope you can one day forgive me,” she whispers, and slides her hands up his chest. The stasis takes him by surprise, crawling over his feet, and up his knees and over his arms. She breaks away from his clawed grip with a shuddering cry. “Please,” she whispers. “Forgive me. I’m sorry, Canderous. I am. I didn’t want this. I wanted to travel to Dxun with you, and I wanted to stand by your side as you made Ordo great again.” She presses a desperate kiss to his mouth, though he’s unable to return it, or turn away. “But that isn’t my path.”

 

She backs away and he can see Revan slide her way up into Helena’s face. Her expression, heartbroken and dismayed, fades away into an eerie calm. “When this wears off,” she says evenly, “I will be gone. T3 and HK will accompany me. Our home is yours, as is anything else you wish to take with you. Remember us fondly, Canderous of Clan Ordo.   _Garb nair kar’ta_.” She turns, and at the door, she glances at his still form. “I love you.”

 

Then she’s gone, and the only sign she’d ever even been there is in the remnants of their life together.  

 

Later, once he checks to find out if the Hawk truly is gone, he finds the package in their bedroom. He ignores it for a few days, but curiosity wins out over rage.

 

He puts on the helm of Mandalore and lets the knowledge that she’d never planned to stick around settle into his bones. He’s Mando’a and he will not let a woman cripple him. Revan is gone and she’s taken Helena with her. But his people still need him and Clan Ordo calls.

 

Canderous has work to do.

 

*end


End file.
